


Thirst

by PoliticalPadmé (magnetgirl)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/M, canon adjacent, the tiniest Anidala moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/PoliticalPadm%C3%A9
Summary: Qui-Gon and Shmi share a moment





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/gifts).



She was watching again. 

There was something about it, something about her, that tugged at his attention. She was, in her way, as much an enigma as her son. 

He was asleep, finally. They all were, crowded into the small back room. Jar Jar leaned against the wall, head bowed and eyes closed, though his burbling breathing and body twitches indicated some discomfort. The Gungun wasn’t built for such a dry planet.

The queen -- handmaiden -- was tucked into the boy’s bed. Her long hair had been pulled into two braids, tight, and strong, and at first glance, with none of the intricacy normally on view in the Nubian contingent. But he’d watched the girl work with the boy’s mother to plait it into something resembling a weapon, one he was certain both knew how to wield.  

The boy was on the floor, limbs splayed every which way, as if he’d fallen asleep mid leap. His hand curled protectively around a small snippet of ivory colored stone. Qui-Gon couldn’t see its shape, but the carving tool abandoned on the floor beside him indicated Anakin was working it into something. 

“He does that often.” Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow in query as Shmi joined him by the arch of Anakin’s room. “Falls asleep working,” she explained, brushing past to lay a blanket over the sleeping child. “He loves to tinker, and make things with his hands.” She moved the tool from floor to shelf before returning to the Jedi. “I’m warming some bantha milk,” she offered. Qui-Gon smiled and followed her into the larger common room. 

“Thank you,”  he answered as he took a seat at the table. “And again, for welcoming us into your home.”

“We don’t get many visitors like you.” There was a wistfulness to her voice she probably didn’t realize, but Qui-Gon understood. Shmi sat beside him, placing two ceramic mugs with steamed blue milk on the table between them. “Would you…”

“Hmm?” 

“Tell me what it’s like...to be a Jedi…”

Qui-Gon sat back in his chair, raised the mug to his lips, and sipped. She was asking for her son, he knew. The son she would never see again if he was able to take him to the Order as he hoped, planned. “If Anakin were born in the Republic, his abilities would have been identified early.”

“Like yours were?”

He nodded. “I was brought to Coruscant as an infant.” He told her about the creche, early classes with other younglings, explained the mentoring process, and how he was assigned to be a Padawan learner. Once started, he found the stories pouring out of him. Shmi listened with an alertness he understood and a compassion he was only starting to. 

In return she told him of Anakin’s childhood. His knack with machines and dreams of space travel. The way he befriended people and everyone in town looked out for him. How she knew he was destined for more than this sandy wasteland, and hoped Qui-Gon would be the vehicle to bring him to that fate. 

She didn’t speak about herself and he didn’t ask. It would be difficult to take the boy with them, nearly impossible to take them both. And anyway, if Anakin were to become a Jedi he would have to leave family behind. Attachments were forbidden. He didn’t ask. It was easier for them all if he didn’t know. 

“It’s late,” he said, finally, their mugs long since empty. Shmi nodded and stood to clear the table. A lock of hair fell across her eyes as she turned; Qui-Gon found himself wondering what she looked like with her hair free. He put a hand out to catch her waist -- Shmi’s eyes darted to his face in surprise. And confusion. And -- something else. Something mirrored in his own. 

He stood, slowly and with great deliberation, holding her gaze as he reached his free hand to gently brush the hair out of her eyes and cup her cheek. Jedi were not required to be celibate but most chose to be, to avoid forming those forbidden attachments. To avoid falling in love. 

Shmi slipped her hand beneath his on her waist and tugged, leading him away from the table, into the room opposite her son's. It was smaller, neater, less cluttered. Just a table of drawers, a few books, and the bed, little more than a mattress and pillows under a large brown blanket, that she drew Qui-Gon down onto with her. 


End file.
